-
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- still rolling on I go
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From fleeting scene to scene ephemeral,
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- with life’s currents’ ebb and flow.
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Oh! I am sick of this unending force;
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- these shows they please no more.
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This ever running, never reaching,
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- nor e’en a distant glimpse of shore!
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From life to life I’m waiting at the gates,
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- alas, they open not.
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Dim are my eyes with vain attempt
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- to catch one ray long sought.
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On little life’s high, narrow bridge
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- I stand and see below
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The struggling, crying, laughing throng.
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- For what? No one can know.
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In front yon gates stand frowning dark,
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- and say: “No farther way,
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This is the limit; tempt not Fate,
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- bear it as best you may;
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Go, mix with them and drink this cup
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- and be as mad as they.
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Who dares to know but comes to grief;
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- stop then, and with them stay.”
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Alas for me. I cannot rest.
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- This floating bubble, earth—
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Its hollow form, its hollow name,
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- its hollow death and birth—
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For me is nothing. How I long
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- to get beyond the crust
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Of name and form! Ah! ope the gates;
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- to me they open must.
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Open the gates of light, O Mother, to me Thy tired son. I long, oh, long to return home!
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- Mother, my play is done.
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You sent me out in the dark to play,
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- and wore a frightful mask;
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Then hope departed, terror came,
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- and play became a task.
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Tossed to and fro, from wave to wave
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- in this seething, surging sea
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Of passions strong and sorrows deep,
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- grief is, and joy to be,
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Where life is living death, alas! and death—
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- who knows but ’tis
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Another start, another round of this old wheel
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- of grief and bliss?
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Where children dream bright, golden dreams,
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- too soon to find them dust,
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And aye look back to hope long lost
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- and life a mass of rust!
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Too late, the knowledge age cloth gain;
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- scarce from the wheel we’re gone
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When fresh, young lives put their strength
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- to the wheel, which thus goes on
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From day to day and year to year.
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- ‘Tis but delusion’s toy,
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False hope its motor; desire, nave;
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- its spokes are grief and joy.
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I go adrift and know not whither.
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- Save me from this fire!
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Rescue me, merciful Mother,
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- from floating with desire!
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Turn not to me Thy awful face,
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- ’tis more than I can bear.
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Be merciful and kind to me,
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- to chide my faults forbear.
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Take me, O Mother, to those shores
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- where strifes for ever cease;
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Beyond all sorrows, beyond tears,
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- beyond e’en earthly bliss;
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Whose glory neither sun, nor moon,
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- nor stars that twinkle bright,
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Nor flash of lightning can express.
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- They but reflect its light.
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Let never more delusive dreams
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- veil off Thy face from me.
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My play is done, O Mother,
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- break my chains and make me free!
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